


techno, the breadsticks are still on the floor

by rednow



Series: sbi as children (spoiler: they're adorably dumb) [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Affection, Attempt at Humor, Brotherly Affection, Brothers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insomnia, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Sleepy Bois Inc Fluff, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Sleepy Cuddles, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, ao3 said femur rights for everyone, bunk beds, if you know what that tag means - you know, they're brothers your honor, this is ur monthly installment of fluff chat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 06:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rednow/pseuds/rednow
Summary: “Bet Wilbur twenty to eat that,” Tommy says smartly.Techno hates cleaning up too, so he snickers. “I’m callin’ fifty.”“Techno, I love you till the sundown, but I willnotbe eating that.”Or, Technoblade has a late night panic attack and Wilbur helps. Tommy, their youngest brother, is the big man partying.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: sbi as children (spoiler: they're adorably dumb) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213607
Comments: 57
Kudos: 475





	techno, the breadsticks are still on the floor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itisjosh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisjosh/gifts).



> hey josh!!! it's me again, you really fucking cannot escape me AT ALL!!!! this fic is a thank you yet again!!! you're a very cool guy and your writing always scratches the good part of my brain. i genuinely love your company a lot, consider this fic as a thank you for everything you've done for me, and you're welcome too because i'm pog. ilysm man, take care <3
> 
> everyone else, this is your monthly installment of pure fluff. enjoy, i'll be speedrunning mcds after this lmao
> 
> happy reading! <3

Wilbur wakes up to sounds he never wants to wake up to again.

Techno’s crying. 

Wilbur feels his mouth dry up, and his chest pang out horribly. Techno rarely cried. When he did, Wilbur tried his best to get Phil and then dip as fast as he could.

Phil isn’t home tonight, having to work overtime on a late night shift at the supermarket. It's the season's last rush or something, Wilbur hadn’t paid much attention when he overheard Phil's call with his manager.

So, Techno’s crying. Wilbur peels his blanket off and carefully peaks down from the middle bunk just to be sure.

Correction, Techno isn’t just crying, he’s also making these horrid, feeble sounding noises like he’s attempting and failing to suck in air.

Wilbur scrambles out, jumping down from the bunk bed.

This is worse, he tells himself. This is _worse_ than just the crying. What if Techno’s dying? Had he been late night eating? What if he choked to death right in their room? Phil was away, Wilbur would have to bury Techno himself because Tommy's sleeping like the world's ending and _god,_ he didn’t want to.

He approaches the bottom bunk carefully. “Techno, Techno… Can you hear me?” 

With the help of a sliver of moonlight that slides into the room through their bleached curtains, Wilbur is able to make out that Techno’s face is shoved into a pillow facing the wall, hair undone and and worst of all, he is positively _shuddering._

He peeks inside the bunk, tentatively touching his brother’s shoulder. “Techno? Shhh, it’s me. It’s okay, I’m here.”

Techno keeps gulping, bundled up in blankets and shaking into the wall, like he wants to melt into it.

It’s a panic attack. Wilbur exhales. It is okay, he tells himself, he can handle this. There are always things to be grateful about. At least Techno isn't choking on a chunk of mushroom.

“I’m going to get in, alright?" Wilbur's voice calls out, soft and a little nervous. He pauses, hesitating slightly. "Techno, I’m going to get in, and we’re going to be alright, we’re going to be a-okay, I’m going to handle this, and you’re going to be just _fine.”_

Wilbur whispers all of this and more to Techno, continuing to speak words just to distract his brother from panicking further, although it works as a distraction for him from overthinking just as well.

Wilbur’s bad at comforting.

He knows he’s going to have to do it anyway.

He slips into the bed beside Techno, wrapping an arm around his twin. Techno’s gasping for air, struggling to breathe, and since Wilbur needs the shuddering to stop, he uses a hand to push away Techno’s shoulder to create space and inserts his face in the crook.

At Wilbur’s touch, the shuddering quietens somewhat. Techno gulps again, back heaving strangely.

Wilbur rubs large circles into Techno’s back, brushing away his brother’s bubblegum pink hair so he can do it better. “You’re okay,” Wilbur tells him, holding him quietly. 

Techno has had sleeping problems for a long time. Although they’d gotten better with meds, sometimes Techno still wakes up in the middle of the night shuddering and gasping, unable to calm himself down.

It’s been that way a long time now. The panicking over sleeping and not sleeping started years ago. Wilbur doesn’t understand what happened or why it happened, but every time he watched five-year-old Techno struggle to breathe, he would panic himself and then run to call Phil and have him fix it.

Wilbur’s thirteen now. So he has basically grown up watching Phil handle Techno during these episodes all his life. Phil’s awfully good at it too, Wilbur feels. He would distract Techno with stories, rub circles into his brother’s back till he calmed down and whispered good things into his ears.

And now, years later, Wilbur decides to do the same, following the lead of his memory. He slips his hand in Techno’s.

“Techno, Techno, wanna hear something?” He starts, and Techno shudders, mumbling incoherently into the pillow. The longer Wilbur held onto him, the more he quietens down, so Wilbur assures himself somewhat proudly that he isn’t doing that bad at the comforting thing after all. 

“I’d like to travel,” he tells him, brushing a strand of hair off his ear.

Techno makes a struggling sound and shakes into the pillow he’s shoved deep against. 

Wilbur bites his lip, hesitating. He hates seeing Techno like this. He braces himself and continues.

“I want to travel. See the world, you know?” Wilbur says, brushing away Techno’s hair as they lay together. He kind of wants to braid them. “I wanna go to so many new places, find out why people live there. I wanna visit Noma in Denmark and dine. I wanna go to the States, stop at all the towns along the Mississippi river. I wanna cruise around the Galápagos.” 

Wilbur breaks off, considering. “You should turn around. If you want. I wanna see you, Techno, and I want you to see me too, and know that you’re not alone.”

Techno obliges quietly in his state of petrified coma, shifting in sheets. Wilbur looks at his twin, whose eyes are wide in fear, teeth dug into his lower lip, and grabs hold of his hands to pause their shaking. 

Then he does something they’ve not done since they were kids. He reaches forward and presses a kiss to Techno’s forehead.

Techno immediately recoiles, sputtering, and turning his back to him again and it makes Wilbur smile on the inside. He knew Techno would do that, but since he isn’t absolutely disgusted Wilbur takes that as progress.

It reminds him of their childhood. Techno telling him to touch grass every time Wilbur tried to be affectionate.

Wilbur smiles again, shuffling. “Okay, shift topics. I wanna have a garden. And lots of houseplants. I also need new socks I think. I’d like red ones.” Techno grumbles distractedly. “Techno, do you wanna eat anything? Quick, think of your favorite dark chocolate covered caramels. Mmm.”

"Shut up, you're goin' to make me hungry, Wil," Techno mumbles and Wilbur laughs.

They fall silent for a moment, Wilbur sinking into the crook of Techno’s neck again, his mere presence calming Techno down, and Techno’s breathing returning to an almost normal metronome. 

But then, Wilbur ruins the moment. He breathes out into Techno’s ear like a dumbass.

Techno jumps, turning around, gasping. “Wilbur, are you an idiot? That’s my fucking ear!”

“I’m trying, Techno, you are the one having a fucking panic attack!” Wilbur scrambles, sitting up, but his head hits the middle bunk. God, he hates bunk beds anyway.

“Doesn’t mean you get to blow into my ear, you idiot, that shit’s uncomfortable!”

“Wasn’t like I was trying to blow into your ear on purpose, you asshole, your ear just gets in the way!”

“My ear gets in the way? What, should I cut my ear off? Tell me, Wilbur, should I cut my ear off?”

Wilbur pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are so incredibly annoying, Technoblade, how do you go from having a panic attack to attacking _me_ in the span of five—”

“Why are you guys down there? Are you having a party? Is it a party, Wilbur? Techno? Why did no one wake me?”

This time Wilbur and Techno both collectively sigh.

“No, Tommy, it’s not a party,” Wilbur says aloud, shuffling closer to one side of the bed and leaning against the ladder. “We were just talking.” He attempts to take away Techno’s blanket because his toes are freezing off but, of course, Techno can’t have that.

It gets tugged away from him. “My blanket,” Techno glares, pushing away strands of long hair out of his eyes.

Wilbur wrenches it away. “Well, mine now, Technoblade. Sucks to suck.”

“You’re being an idiot right now Wil, I feel cold.”

“This may come as a surprise but Wilburs feel cold too, Techno– ouch! What’s wrong with you! Don’t you _dare_ poke me with your disgusting toenail again, I will kick you.”

They hear Tommy shuffle and sit up on the top bunk. “Unfair, you guys are literally having a party without me.” His voice is horribly croaky, half lidded in sleep. “I’m coming down.”

Both siblings startle at the same time. “That, Tommy, is actually a bad idea–” “–It’s not a party, Tommy," Wilbur calls out, throwing a smirk at Techno. “It was simply Techno going wacko again.”

 _“Revenge,”_ he mouths to Techno, who rolls his eyes.

They hear Tommy pause. “Oh,” he says. “Was he having one of those—” 

Techno turns back to Wilbur. “Okay Wilbur, now I’m goin’ to have to throw you out of my bed and you will die.”

Wilbur looks at Techno sitting across him. “Die? We’re on the bottom bunk, Techno.”

“Point still stands.”

Wilbur sighs. “Is Phil coming back? I need my peace back.”

Tommy makes his way down the ladder, landing a foot flat on Wilbur's head. “Didn’t he say he was going to be at the supermarket?” 

Wilbur sighs again. He decides against ill-wishing and just moves away. Techno immediately snatches the blanket from him.

Their nine-year-old brother peers into the bottom bunk, wide awake now. He opens his arms wide. “Mind if I join in, boys?”

Tommy grins at their grimaces.

~

Techno shakes himself lightly, helping himself to a piece of breadstick out of Tommy’s hands.

It turned into a proper party the minute Tommy arrived. Techno wonders how they’d gone from him having a panic attack to them partying in the span of half an hour, but it isn’t like he’s complaining.

He feels loved.

“So. Are you okay now?” Tommy asks, looking at him from the other side of the bed, mouth choke full of breadsticks.

“Tommy, you’re goin’ to die. Drink water.” 

Wilbur nods his head next to Tommy. “He’s right though. God, you really should wake us up whenever you feel like that. We’re here for you, you know that, right?”

Techno didn’t want to wake anyone up when he felt like that. His panic attacks were one of the few moments when he was utterly and completely vulnerable. He shifts in his seat, and watches as Tommy very gracefully spills a load of breadsticks from the bunk onto the ground.

Tommy’s eyes too follow the fiasco. He straightens up, looking at Techno.

“Bet Wilbur twenty to eat that,” Tommy says smartly.

Techno hates cleaning up too, so he snickers. “I’m callin’ fifty.”

“Techno, I love you till the sundown, but I will _not_ be eating that.”

"It's already sundown...?" "Wilbur you’re a pussy. You know that right? You’re a pussy. You’re actually the biggest pussy I’ve ever seen–” Tommy gets shoved in the face with an elbow before he can finish himself. Techno rolls his eyes watching them. “I’m startin’ to think you just like saying that word over and over again.” 

Tommy just grins, bouncing back immediately. "See? He shoved me. He shoved a poor nine year old boy just because he got called names. Do you see this shit, Techno?” Then, turning right back to Wilbur, “I told you. You’re a pussy. You've just proved my point, Wilbur Soot, you’re a pussy."

Techno rolls his eyes from his side of the corner again, knowing Wilbur would go at their little brother for that. He’s not wrong.

"I'm going to pummel you to the top bunk just to throw you off from it, TommyInnit," Wilbur says, staring down at him. “And I fucking _mean it.”_

A bubble of laughter is all that escapes out of Tommy in return.

In the midst of this cacophony, they hear the front door outside creak open. Phil. 

They still.

And then, Wilbur grips them both. “Quick, quick, quick, back in beds!” he whispers urgently, and for once, Tommy listens. He scurries up to the top bunk, and Wilbur follows suit, making head for the middle bunk, leaving Techno alone at the bottom.

Techno lies back down, adjusting his pillow underneath him to find a cool spot. He hears Phil lock the door back again. Phil would be here any second now, looking to check if they were asleep. Techno sighs, sinking into cool his sheets, his heart full. 

There’s a warmth that blossoms in his chest. People care. He thinks he loves his brothers. Correction, he loves them so fucking much, although he’d never admit that to their faces, and he thinks he would die for them and—

He hears the top bunk creak, and immediately sighs.

“Techno,” Tommy speaks, shaking their beds from top.

Wilbur groans from the middle. “Tommy, go to bed.”

“Techno…” Tommy slowly whispers. “The breadsticks. They’re still on the floor.”

Correction, Techno thinks. He fucking _hates_ the lot of them.

**Author's Note:**

> breadstick pog amiright chat
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> also god. please leave kudos if you enjoyed, because seriously, only like 18% of you do, and i'm convinced everyone else is sobbing their eyes out and need to wipe their tears BUT C'MON this one was fluff, so get me all the kudos and comments and clout, you know you want to
> 
> as an oneshots person, user sub to me i beg. because i'm just few away from having 54 billion subs so it would mean a lot


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